“Hello?”
“Where are you going to?”
“Who is this?” Asked Michael.
“You know exactly who this is.”
“Yeah, I know who it is.” Some time passed before Michael could speak again. The voice on the other end of the phone was patiently waiting for him. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I know you’ll trace the call.”
“Where are you going? This isn’t a movie, no one is tracing the call,” said the man on the other end.
“Do you think I should tell you where I’m going so that you can kill everyone there? What do you think about yourself when you orphan a child or you kill an old woman?” “What do you think about yourself when you throw an old man to the ground or you beat a hotel worker so severely that he has to eat his food through a tube?”
“I’m doing what I have to survive. Why am I even talking to you?”
“You know why. I want to put your mind at rest here. It will feel good to take your mind off of things. I’m going to tell you things you already know and walk you through to the end.”
“So how do you justify the horrible things you do for yourself? Especially when you do it at the expense of others, at the lives of others? Do you have a house with white picket fences somewhere?” Asked Michael filled with anger.
“You know what I going to say,” said the man.
“Yeah, I do. You’re just doing your job just like me, or anyone else enabling this sickness to go on. How many people did you kill back in the wars? How many ears did you cut off of simple good people so they could put up a fucking Mall there?”
“When the end of this comes, I’m going to grant your greatest wish. You’re going to be famous. Maybe you’ll get a chance to say your ideas on TV if I don’t kill you first. I think that deep down you know it’s just going to be ramblings of a crazy person. You’re the bad guy here,” said the man.
“You are a hunter killer. The name says it all… your a horror in the world and you will not get to me. You’re not going to catch up to me”
“You’ve got it wrong son. You are the horror of this world… I think that you already know this but you’ve got it wrong about the other thing as well. We should catch up soon.”
Michael hung up the phone. He had just about enough. He was thankful for the silence of the road returning. His phone wasn’t buzzing and he still had half a tank of gas. It might be the last precious moments of peace in his life; he had a mind to enjoy it. He was overcome with the feeling that he had most of his life working in North Atrophy… it was a dead end. He drove through the night seeing no cars. No one seemed to be following, but he knew better. He was hungry and he was road weary once again. Town after town passed by throughout the hours. The open space was replaced by the familiar landscape of quick food and bargains that could not be passed up. He needed to eat. He needed to get clothes and supplies. He needed a parking lot where he could pull off to sleep. He certainly wasn’t going to any more motels. He pulled off the road in the town of North Lethargy. He had a couple of hours before the sun had completely risen. He pulled into the parking structure and fell asleep in a tucked away parking spot. It would be another early morning for Michael at the Mall.
He woke up and was surrounded by cars in the daylight. He considered himself lucky that he wasn’t woken up by a security guard tapping on his window. He didn’t feel lucky enough to leave his gun though. He walked the Mall and was immediately taken back to the state of semi deja vu that he had lived with his whole life. He was unshaven, disheveled and was omitting a presence and odor of “stay away”. He purchased the things he needed with his credit card knowing full well they could track it. Underwear, socks, deodorant, toothpaste and a clean shirt were just too much for the little cash he had left. He needed to save that for emergencies. He changed into his new clothes in the bathroom and reentered the Mall less conspicuous. He felt like he had a new skin on. The morning of shopping had made him hungry. He had been living on gas station nutrition for days on end and his insides were begging for something of more substance. Fortunately for him he was at the Mall, the center of modern nutrition.
He ate lunch at the food court, which was of course almost identical to the one in North Atrophy. “Attention shoppers, don’t forget to take advantage of the sale on red lovers toothpaste at the Mall doctor drugstore in celebration of lovers day. You don’t want to be caught on lovers day with bad breath.”
“Oh no. Where would I be without red fucking toothpaste… and on lover’s day no doubt? Dammit, I should have got that,” said Michael sarcastically to no one in particular. He wasn’t great at keeping a low profile. He didn’t feel good after eating his Parmesan encrusted chicken pieces with maple honey chipotle-mayonaise dipping sauce. He almost felt nostalgic getting the sick to the stomach feeling that came after Mall meals. Almost.
He looked to left and saw a group of high school aged kids laughing and giggling. Teenagers spending free time at the Mall had become a right of passage. It was just prepping them for a life of adult consumerism. One of the kids doubled over and vomited everywhere while the other kids in the group laughed. It was all a big joke. “You’re all sick!” Yelled Michael to no one in particular.
He left the food court and was walking back to the car with the throbbing masses of shoppers. It was becoming peak hours. The neon signs and muzak were beginning to make Michael’s eyes twitch.
He tried to think practically and not get bogged down by anger. This would be good place to change cars. The idea of stealing another car was filling him with dread. But anything was preferable to being around people stopping in walkways to gawk at sales or kids running into people uncaring as their attention was focused with their latest gadget. For most children, the world was externalized on little devices.
He passed the video game store and it was an almost like seeing a replay of his last day in North Atrophy. It was a mother and her two kids coming out of the store with a bag full of video game simulated lives. Michael caught a glimpse of his reflection in the store window. His saw his shabby unshaven face and his jiggling gut underneath a trendy shirt. He was the bad guy hiding the good guy’s clothes and he was hiding in plain sight. His bloodshot eyes were the only feature giving away his inner nature. Inside, Michael felt that these people were only parodies of what real people should be. In Michaels’ bloodshot eyes, they became characters in a scene.
“You’re all the same. You’re all just filling a role here. You don’t matter at all. You’ll just be replaced by another unit!” said Michael to no one in particular. No one seemed to pay the rambling crazy person much attention. He couldn’t have held it together then if he were trying. He wasn’t really trying.
There was something about the scene that pushed his mind over the edge. To him, this woman should be giving her children nourishing food and a nourishing purpose more than a video game. She should have been mothering. These kids were dead before they had a chance to live.
“You’re just doing your duty and so am I. In this world, I’m the bad guy.” He pulled out his gun and shot the mother and her two kids. It was instantaneous for the two children. He unintentionally shot the mother in the hand before inflicting the fatal wound. Her detached fingers fell to the floor and she screamed in horror for a brief moment that would last an eternity in Michaels mind. Then she joined her children and fell to the ground dead just like in the movies. It happened so quickly it seemed there was a pause before the crowd screamed in horror. That moment, the pause seemed to never end for Michael. He crossed a line and he knew it. Life was now a heavy weight in his stomach. There was no going back in life. It was not fair. When the slow motion feeling left and the crowd’s outraged yells filled the air, Michael was running. He was in full sprint to the nearest exit and could see the security on other levels starting to give pursuit.
“Don’t forget to take advantage of our one time deal for our zero percent APR financing rewards gold card.”
There was no tim
e to find the car he came in. He ran up to a car with a family in it and put the gun up the window. “Get the fuck out! Get the fuck out!” The family’s innocent day at the Mall was ruined but he got his car. He drove away in his new impeccable black sports utility vehicle. He was out of bullets, conspicuous for the whole world to see and there was an infant car seat in the back seat. He was not good at keeping a low profile. “Fuck APR financing! Fuck it in the ass,” he said to no one in particular.
I wonder if I’m changing just by being far away. I wonder if that happens. I wonder if people become the things they’re told because they start to believe it. I wonder when I started to believe my own ramblings. Do I deserve to go to paradise? I spend the time on this dark never ending road thinking about being with a woman, having kids, doing work that matters… Will it happen just because I believe it, because I want it? Do I deserve it? If he catches me, there will be no mercy. I am too much of a threat now. How can the innocent people of the world shop and watch television with a threat like me around? In the military they punish the group for the fault of the individual. I can see it now everywhere I go. They scare the masses on the news because of people like me. They herd them around like cattle. They actually need people like me so they can keep everyone else in order. These people love obedience; they just don’t know it… . If you justify yourself does you make it right? Who’s the judge? In the Promised Land I will make people need me. They’ll need something I provide but it won’t be like this. It can’t be. I’ll do whatever I have to. I’ll need to be accepted. If you forgive yourself, does that mean that you really are? Who’s the judge? I’ve seen so many movies where someone drives to the sunset at the end. I’m going to find out what’s after the sun. If no one else knows, does that mean there’s nothing to know? I don’t think so. I will be in a vulnerable state of open mindedness when I arrive. I am willing to learn and to shed my skin of the false world. I don’t have to die to do it. I’m the judge of that.
Chapter 8
“I can see the cemetery from here. I used to be there, I must have left. I know who I am. Who was I in there? Who was there with me? Why am I running away? Where are the gravestones? I’m tired of questions… the grass looks so green from this building. That beautiful hill goes on forever. The building must be for the caretakers.”
It was all white marble. Beautiful Greek columns dotted the walls at the corners. Nothing was in the room but plants and a single chair.
“The caretaker should be here. Someone should be here and it shouldn’t be me. I’m going to leave. I know where I’m going. Where am I going? I want to get out of this room. It’s a prison. I know I’ve put myself here. I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want it any more.”
He left through the door. There were more rooms to explore but he didn’t want to. He walked back to the cemetery up the main path. The moon was full, illuminating the vast expanse of green levels. “Where were the gravestones?”
“I want you to see but you won’t let it happen.” He turned to see the man he knew would be there.
“I recognize you,” he said to the man.
“Of course you do.”
“You don’t scare me any more,” he said to the man.
“Of course I do. It’s OK to be afraid. I’ll make you see but you have to let me. You don’t need your eyes anymore.”
He ran away from the man. He ran up the hill trying to get to the top. It just kept going. The mist hid all of the natural light. He was afraid. He had to get to the top so he could see and get some perspective.
“It just keeps going. It just keeps going.”
Michael awoke in a new landscape. The green lush hills had been replaced by a red and brown desert landscape. There were high hills and rock cliffs in the distance. The sun was beginning to set as he got up from his hardly replenishing sleep in the back of his newly acquired vehicle. He had driven through the night and pulled into the back parking lot of an auto repair store. His intention was to blend in with the large assortment of cars. His next step was to get another automobile without been seen.
“All these cars surrounding me and no access to the keys.” He decided to try elsewhere after getting some breakfast. He didn’t know where he would go but he knew for sure that he would not be eating in a Mall.
After the tragic events in North Lethargy, he changed his direction to straight south. The landscape he was in might as well have been from another planet it was so dissimilar to where he was from. The stores of course were the same. He was familiar with the chain restaurants and was desperately craving some type of food that wouldn’t make him feel sick. After some time of driving around, he chose the “Fuddy’s” chain because there were the fewest people there. Michael had decided that his life from here on out would be better around less people. Every Fuddy’s around the land was designed to be an all day breakfast restaurant for families. Families usually filled it with obnoxiously loud children. Michael knew exactly what was on the menu there. He knew what was on the menu everywhere, so did everyone. It was pretty much a slightly different version of the same food. Most restaurants were like this. It was all part of the extension of the Mall but to Michael at that point, anything was better than being in the belly of the beast.
The other people, the families inside paid him little attention except uneasy glances. It was unusual to see a person eating on their own in a family place. More than that, Michael was exuding the presence that he didn’t belong. It always attracted attention. After he ordered his meal, he looked at one young family and couldn’t help but think about the life he would have had with Sarah. This was the life that he forfeited. He hoped that he would never have to see Sarah’s parents again. He hoped to never have to explain himself to anyone. That was the dream. The guilt was just starting to make its real weight known when the waitress put the plate down in front of him. “Here’s your ham, hash-brown cheesy gravy scramble. Good choice, that’s my favorite,” said the waitress. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Michael thought about it and wondered what he did need looking at his casserole dish filled with oily fat. He took a bite and was overcome with the sensation of sameness. It didn’t taste different from how he remembered. It tasted just as it always had. It wouldn’t really have mattered what he got.
“Excuse me miss, he said motioning to the waitress. Do you like the food here?"
“Oh yes, you got my favorite thing. Is something wrong? You don’t like it?”
Michael looked at the waitress who was middle aged and heavy. She was not attractive and most people would just look at her as little more than the background. He figured she was probably a working mother in a mountain of Debt and he felt bad being critical about the food.
“Well I don’t want to complain.” Michael realized right then that he had fallen in love with complaining. “It’s just that the food here or really anywhere doesn’t taste… it all tastes the same. Shouldn’t the food taste different from one side of the country to another?”
“I don’t know,” said the waitress who was becoming annoyed with this customer who was suddenly appearing like the type who couldn’t pay. She gave a quick glance to her manager. It was just a look that carried the information that there might be a problem. “So, I don’t know what you’re saying to me. You don’t like what you ordered?”
“I used to like it but it just seems. Ham comes from a pig, right? Does this look like anything that came from a real animal?” He asked holding up a gravy/cheese covered ham chunk.
Right then, Michael started to notice the background muzak that played in almost all establishments. It was something that he noticed in North Atrophy when he hit the security guard. It was also there in the motel when he assaulted the clerk. It was playing over the speakers at the fairgrounds. It’s just the mindless regurgitation of a long forgotten popular song. It was meant to be ignored and it drove him insane. He also noticed the manager walking over to his table. The fat and happy families began watching the event
as if it were prime time programming. It was even better, it was free.
“Excuse me sir, is there a problem here?”
Michael started to grin, as he could knew exactly what the man would say. It was as if it was scripted and he once again had his role to play out.
Michael looked at the man in his short-sleeved shirt, necktie and khaki’s. Managers of restaurants and stores always invoked the same feeling for Michael. It was a knee-jerk reaction to seeing someone reveling in a tiny amount of meaningless power. For reasons unknown to him, Michael didn’t want to play his role out. He didn’t offer a sarcastic reply. He didn’t want to play the game he had been playing since he was a child.
“You know sir, there really isn’t a problem here. I just wanted to talk to you guys about the food. It isn’t anything wrong with this place in particular. This Fuddy’s isn’t really that different than any other one.”
“Sir, if you have a problem with this establishment then maybe you should go.”
Michael looked around at all of the families looking at him waiting for the conclusion in their free show. Inside he was filled with the urge to say some condescending comment. In his younger years his mind would have been running wild with revenge fantasies at the expense of this man who was embarrassing him in public. Something was different here. He just felt bad for the man. He felt bad for the families. He felt bad about the whole situation.
Mall Land Page 9